


The Prince That Was Promised

by ProfessorMeowmers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feminist Themes, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorMeowmers/pseuds/ProfessorMeowmers
Summary: Bran can warg back in time, so what if he decides to do that again, but this time merges with the Night King?Kinvara revives Daenerys, and sends her back to save the new timeline that Bran creates.





	1. Chapter 1

Daenerys choked on her own blood, struggling to breathe. She could feel her lungs filling up with blood, life draining out of her. She had always believed that her death would come by poison. Poison was impersonal, but effective. Despite all the battles she had been in, she never really imagined being slain by a blade. Who would dare stab the Mother of Dragons? 

She never thought she would be drowning in her own blood, caught in the familiar embrace of her lover. It felt far too gentle, too intimate to be death. 

Jon looked down at her, his eyes full of deep sorrow. Why was he so sad? Soon she would catch her breath, and everything would be alright. She had won. No one would ever dare to threaten her or her loved ones again. After a lifetime of running, she would be safe. 

She and Jon would be safe. 

Her eyelids felt heavy. She closed them for a moment and tried to take another rattling breath, but her body failed her. 

The wound was fatal, and the Dragon Queen was no more. 

*

Daenerys slowly became aware of the all-consuming nothingness that surrounded her. Without being told, she knew that this was Death. 

She saw nothing, smelled nothing, heard nothing, and tasted nothing. But more than that, the ache in her heart, her constant companion since Viserion's death, was gone. Instead, her heart was a void, empty and vast. 

While she was still among the living, she had thought her heart was gone, broken beyond repair. She never had a soft heart, so how could her hard heart absorb such blows? How could she survive after Jorah's death, Missandei’s death, Rhaegon's death? 

She knew now that she had been fooling herself. 

Her heart had not been gone, it had been too full. She had to numb herself against the pain of all her grief. She had to throw herself into destruction, into the war to avoid thinking of all she had lost. If she stopped running, if she stopped fighting and conquering she would have to deal with the fact that the Iron Throne had not been worth it. 

Westeros had not been worth their deaths. 

“My Prince.”

The voice was a mere whisper, but it sounded like a bell in the void.

“My Prince, are you satisfied?”

Daenerys almost wanted to laugh. How could she be satisfied? She had made so many mistakes... But they felt distant now. 

The emptiness in her heart allowed her to look over everything she had done with a detachment she never could have achieved in life. With the constant ache in her heart gone, she could see clearly now that she had confused duty and love. 

When people swore loyalty to her and called her ‘My Queen', she had thought that it was the same as love. 

To Daenerys, who had spent her childhood living off the generosity of others, duty was no small thing. She had survived on scraps, on promises. She was well aware of her duty to others. Those who swore loyalty to her were like her children. If they were loyal to her, she would love them forever. If they betrayed her...

She wasn't naive, she knew that men would betray her. Men are fickle creatures who care more about themselves than duty. But if they betrayed her, that meant she lost their love, didn’t it? How could someone love her, call her ‘My Queen', and betray her at the same time? Jorah had not loved her yet when he betrayed her. Love chained hearts to duty, didn’t it? 

Now, in death, she understood that men like Jon Snow could love her, be loyal to her, but feel that their duty lay elsewhere. 

Where did Jon Snow’s duty ultimately lie? Was it with the Starks? The North? Westerosi nobles? Tyrion? The common people? Death brought her some measure of clarity, but didn’t make the answer to that question any more obvious. 

“Your dragon brought you to the ruins of Valyria. Old magic is strong here, and so the Great Other was unable to fully take you. The Lord of Light has been watching over you.”

What did it matter anymore? It was all over.

“No, my Prince. It is far from over. The Long Night has been defeated, but men create their own darkness. A few years from now, King Bran the Broken will once again travel back in time. This time, he will accidentally warg into the body of the Night King. The Lord of Light has blessed me with this knowledge.”

King Bran? If Daenerys could feel her eyes, she would be tempted to roll them. She had expected Sansa to take her place. But it shouldn’t surprise her that the wheel would turn and place a man in charge once more. Back to the comfortable status quo that she had been fighting.

“If he stays in the Night King's body, their minds will merge and time will fracture. He will create a new timeline where the army of the dead remain undefeated. That world will be plunged into darkness and all men will die.”

Daenerys knew that these words should chill her to the bone, but her emotions were gone. All that remained was a profound indifference. What did this have to do with her?

“The Lord of Light has shown me many things. He showed me your body, burning yet unburnt in the fires of Valyria. You are the Prince That Was Promised, I am even more certain of this fact now. Your work in this world is done, but if you agree, I will send you and your dragon to the new world that Bran will create.”

She felt so tired. Why should she fight? There was nothing left in this world for her. She wanted to embrace oblivion. The voice made a sympathetic sound. 

“That is your choice. You have fulfilled your role here, and this world is safe. However, should you chose to go to the doomed world, you would have a second chance. You could prevent your loved ones from dying. As King Bran will have knowledge of the future, so will you. The Lord of Light has decided it will be so.”

She could be reunited with them? Her dragons, Jorah, and Missandei? The vast nothingness in her heart receded slightly and she finally felt something: warmth. 

She wanted to see them again. Of this she was certain.

“Consider my proposal carefully my prince. You will never be able to come back to this world. For now, you are between Life and Death. One day, you could awaken and try again. It may take centuries, but there is still the possibility that you will be brought back to life and change this world.”

No. This world held nothing for her. She had gone to Westeros expecting to find a home. Instead, she only found bitter disappointment. Westeros was a cold, lonely place. There was no love there. 

If she could see her beloved friends again, what would she say? What would she do? 

“Have you made your decision my Prince? If you go to this new world, there is no guarantee of victory. Because you are a warrior of light I know you will do your best to ward off the darkness, but your enemy will have the same advantages. King Bran will have the same knowledge of events as you. You may very well lose your allies yet again.”

Valar Morghulis. Daenerys thought. At least she would be home again, even if for a short time. She would wrap Missandei in her arms and never let her go. They all may die again, but Missandei will never again suffer the indignity Cersei put her through. Daenerys’ own death did not bother her nearly as much as the fact that her closest confidant, the woman she had freed from slavery, died bound by chains in a foreign land.

“Valar Dohaeris,” the voice replied. “Trust in the Lord of Light, for the night is long and full of terrors.”

The small spark of hope in Daenerys' heart grew and became a roaring flame. 

*

Where there was once nothing, there was now light. The void that surrounded her grew warmer and brighter, consuming the nothingness until Daenerys felt everything once again. 

She was alive, burning, and standing in the rain. 

Daenerys opened her eyes to see Varys, Tyrion, Missandei, and Grey Worm looking at her in horror from a safe distance. Slightly closer was Melisandre with a look of awed ecstasy on her face. They were all drenched to the bone, their cloaks whipped into a frenzy by the storm raging at Dragonstone. 

Daenerys could hear Drogon screeching, but instead of looking up at the stormy sky to find him, she looked down at her own hands. They were covered by flames. 

‘Oh no,’ Daenerys thought idly, ‘My clothes are on fire again.’

The flames that surrounded her grew in intensity until her cloak was completely burned. In an attempt to preserve her modesty, she knelt in the sand, hugged her own body, and bowed her head to the ground. The flames continued to burn for several minutes, even after all her clothes were gone. 

When the flames stopped, there was nothing but the sound of the wind and the rain. No one seemed to know what to say.

“Your Lord of Light has a sense of humour, I think.” Daenerys slowly said to Melisandre. “He could have let me keep my clothing.”

Melisandre's expression of rapture was hard to look at, so Daenerys turned to her council. “A cloak. Lend me a cloak.”

Tyrion was the first to recover his wits. He quickly moved to take off his own cloak and walked as quickly as he could to hand it to her. 

“Your Grace, while stormy nights such as these are appropriate for acts of Gods, perhaps we should go back inside to make sense of what just happened.” 

Daenerys stood up and wrapped the small cloak around her body with a sigh. “Agreed. Lead the way.” 

Tyrion nodded, and promptly spun on his heels to start walking back to the castle. He nudged Varys out of his stupor, and while Varys followed, he would occasionally look back, still with an expression of disbelief etched onto his face. 

Missandei and Grey Worm took their places at her side and allowed her to take a small amount of shelter from the rain as they walked slowly back to the castle. 

Melisandre followed at the rear, whispering prayers of gratitude to the Lord of Light. Despite the storm raging, Daenerys felt incredibly warm. 

She was home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany faces her council after being brought back to the past.

Their walk back to the castle was silent, and it gave Daenerys time to think. 

In her other life, Tyrion and Varys had shown that they could not be trusted. They had not betrayed her yet, but they were capable of it. She understood why she had lost their loyalty. She even respected their choices.

Between a broken-hearted woman with nothing to lose, and an honorable man like Jon Snow, Daenerys also would have backed Jon Snow. 

Thanks to her death and subsequent time in the void, she could look at their betrayals with cool detachment. 

Tyrion may claim that he is the black sheep of the family, but love and familial duty has always had a great influence over his choices. Tyrion loves Jaime dearly, and will be loyal to him first and foremost. And while he may claim to hate Cersei, he did not want her dead. This would eventually be a problem.

In a way, she was grateful for Tyrion’s previous betrayals, as they granted her a valuable insight into his mind. While the dwarf may indeed be brilliant, his love for his family would always cloud his judgement. 

Could she really hold it against him? After all, she had made the same mistake with Jon Snow.

Daenerys hurried back to her rooms to put on one of her fur robes. She would have liked to take a hot bath, but she had the feeling that her council would not be able to wait that long. So she hoped that the warm furs would temporarily ward off the chill from the rain. 

Her mind turned to Varys. 

While she could forgive Tyrion’s betrayal to a certain extent, Varys’ betrayal set her teeth on edge. He had sworn that he would not conspire behind her back, but as soon as a better candidate was available, he started plotting. She knew about the letters, and she also suspected that he tried to poison her. The days after Missandei’s death were a blur, so she could not say with any degree of certainty that her food was indeed poisoned, but her gut instinct was rarely wrong. 

Varys had a lot of gall. It took someone either incredibly stupid, or incredibly desperate to brazenly betray her in her own castle. She didn’t think Varys was stupid. 

So what was it that made him change his allegiance? What made Jon Snow a better candidate? Besides being a man, of course. 

Daenerys sat for a moment and pushed her wet hair out of her face. She wanted what was best for the realm. Yes, she was ambitious and ruthless, but so weren’t those same qualities what had brought Varys to her door in the first place? 

Jon Snow could also be ruthless. She absently touched where the dagger had pierced her chest. 

Maybe Varys liked Jon’s lack of ambition. Truth be told, Jon’s lack of ambition was a quality that Daenerys herself prized. She had thought it meant that she could trust him. 

Shaking her head, Daenerys sighed. She couldn’t even stay angry at Varys. He had ended up being right. In her darkest moment, she had forgotten about the good of the realm and hurt the very people she had sworn to protect. 

After years of promising herself that she would never end up like her father, she let her anger and despair overwhelm her and used Drogon to attack the people of King’s Landing. All her good intentions meant nothing if she was a tyrant like Cersei, and like her own father. 

She made her way to the map room, where all the others were waiting anxiously. 

“Your Grace, what happened?” Varys asked. “One moment you were welcoming Melisandre, the next you were walking out into the storm.”

“And catching fire,” Tyrion added as he poured himself some wine. “You seem to make a habit of that.”

Daenerys ignored the men and made her way to Missandei. Closing her eyes, she wrapped the woman in her arms and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Missandei, kind soul that she was, said nothing and hugged her back tightly.

“The Lord of Light has spoken to you, hasn’t he?” Melisandre murmured, eyes bright. “My visions of the Prince That Was Promised brought me to you, but I have never seen such a clear sign.”

Daenerys took another deep breath, drawing strength from Missandei’s quiet stillness.

Missandei noticed this and frowned. “Do you need time your grace? We can talk about it later.”

She rubbed Daenerys’ arms. No matter how weak it made Daenerys appear to the men around her, this small affectionate gesture from her beloved friend fortified her. 

“No, we must discuss it now,” Daenerys sighed. She turned and faced the others and gestured for them to sit down. They all took a seat at the table. Before Missandei could step back to wait unobtrusively in the shadows, Daenerys took her hand, not willing to let her go quite yet. “In the fire I had a vision.”

She decided not to reveal that she had lived another life. This information would only be shared with Missandei, Grey Worm, and Jorah, when he returned from Oldtown. “I have seen the future.”

Several jaws dropped. Tyrion recovered first and left to pour himself some more wine.

“What do you mean by ‘the future’, your grace?” Varys asked, tucking his hands into his sleeves. 

Daenerys gave him a small smile. “I saw the Long Night… and what comes after.”

“So it is true, you are the Prince that will save us,” Melisandre murmured. “It was not Jon Snow, but you all along.”

“I don’t know that to be true. Jon Snow has an important role in the conflict to come. As does Arya Stark. I want them as my allies.” 

Tyrion's eyebrows climbed even higher. “Arya Stark is still alive?”

“Shall I change the letter calling on Jon Snow to bend the knee?” Varys asked.

Daenerys hesitated. As much as she loved him, Jon's betrayal was still too fresh. She did not want to face him yet, even if it would take him weeks to travel from Winterfell to Dragonstone. She considered the problem for a few moments.

“Tell him to send his sister Sansa as an emissary. She can bend the knee on his behalf.”

Tyrion looked alarmed. “Are you certain your grace? Starks have never done well in the south, and so I doubt Sansa will agree to come to Dragonstone. Nor do I think she will bend the knee.”

“If she does not come, it matters not. The Starks need us more than we need them. We can wait for them to yield.” 

Melisandre shifted, her long red dress rustling. “What about the Long Night, your grace?” 

Daenerys sighed. “Winter is not here yet. The army of the dead can wait. The more pressing matter is Cersei Lannister. Have we discussed a siege yet?”

“About that your grace, I had an idea--” Tyrion began, leaning forward.

“We will not be attacking Casterly Rock,” Daenerys said immediately.

Tyrion sputtered. “What?” He nearly knocked over his wine. “Why not?”

“We will be defending Highgarden. Your family ties are not an advantage at the moment. Jaime knows you better than you think.”

Tyrion’s mouth opened and closed a few times, incredulous. 

“But even before that, we must eliminate Euron Greyjoy.” Daenerys smiled grimly. “I will not forget about the Iron Fleet. Varys, find out where the Iron Fleet is anchored at night. Drogon and I will destroy it on our own.”

“My Queen, I must advise you against this course of action. A sneak attack on Casterly Rock would be much wiser than striking the Iron Fleet on your own!"

Daenerys raised her hand to cut Tyrion off. “A sneak attack on Casterly Rock is doomed to fail. Heed my words Tyrion, you are underestimating your family. You will have to master this failing quickly, or I will chose another Hand before I face Cersei.”

Tyrion swallowed dryly and nodded. “Understood.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Daenerys turned to Grey Worm. 

“Grey Worm, I need you to start mining the dragonglass on this island. We will need it in the upcoming war.”

Grey Worm nodded. 

“After I destroy the Iron Fleet, it will be impossible for Cersei to call on reinforcements,” Daenerys continued. “We will then begin the siege of King's Landing.”

Tyrion let out a little laugh. “What reinforcements could she possibly call on? She has no allies in Westeros!”

Daenerys held her tongue. It would serve no purpose to tell Tyrion that his sister would hire the Golden Company from Essos. 

“Regardless, destroying the Iron Fleet is of paramount importance,” Daenerys gave Tyrion a tight smile. 

“But the hour grows late, and there has been enough excitement for tonight. Good night.” Daenerys rose, and all the others rose as well to bow as she left the room. 

Missandei followed a respectful distance behind her, but as soon as they were out of the council's sight, Daenerys pulled her closer. 

“I have so much to tell you,” Daenerys whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. 

"Are you alright my queen?" Missandei whispered back, anxiously.

“The only way for my happiness to be even more complete would be for Jorah to be with us now, cured." She hastily wiped away a tear with a tremulous smile. 

"Tell me Missandei, what do people from the Isle of Naath believe comes after death?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments, what incredible motivation! 
> 
> This fic will be Jonerys endgame, but they have a lot of issues to work out first. Here's to more fics that deal with the mess that D&D left us.

**Author's Note:**

> I had zero intention of writing this, but I'm still so angry about the finale that it just kind of happened.
> 
> Please let me know if you think I should continue.


End file.
